


only a steel man can be a lover

by smithens



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Crying, Depression, Ficlet, M/M, Male Homosexuality, Masculinity, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-17
Updated: 2020-08-17
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:28:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25955206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smithens/pseuds/smithens
Summary: They don't talk about the sadness.
Relationships: Thomas Barrow/Richard Ellis
Comments: 7
Kudos: 89





	only a steel man can be a lover

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Waistcoat35](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Waistcoat35/gifts).



> > Only a steel man can be a lover  
> If he had hands to tremble all over  
> We celebrate our sense of each other  
> We have a lot to give one another  
> 
> 
> — ["The Man of Metropolis Steals Our Hearts" by Sufjan Stevens](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-kkz4spTT-I)
> 
> did you guys know "masculinity" isn't a canonical ao3 tag? that feels wrong to me but in fact there are only 55 (56 now i guess) works that use the tag.
> 
> this was originally [posted in June on my Tumblr](https://combeferre.tumblr.com/post/622402313398714368) to fill the prompts "reacting to the other crying about something" and "one falling asleep with their head in the other's lap". i'll edit the publication date in a few weeks to be the original one but i wanted to give people who never saw it a chance to read it if they wanted to so here it is haha. 
> 
> **content notes:** description of Thomas's canonical suicide attempt, references to his likewise canonical attempt at conversion therapy

"Sorry."

"Dunno if you've got any reason to be."

"Haven't I?"

Thomas looks down at him with raised eyebrows, but Richard's eyes are still closed. "You never let _me_ apologise for crying."

And not for lack of trying, neither. He'd spent about half the bloody drive back to Downton last year ( _last year_ , he hasn't been able to say that about a man for a long time) in tears.

"Well, you have reasons, don't you?"

"What, and you don't?"

Richard's fingers trace the insides of his wrists, skirting across the raised parts… neat, even lines, because Thomas was careful about it. The lowest he's ever been and he still cared about what it looked like, minded what other people would think and say: no need to be sloppy in the very last thing he ever does. He would've already lost enough dignity. That's why he'd done it in the bath tub, too, and clothed: no chance of being more of a burden than he had to be, and nothing left behind to criticise him for.

They don't talk about it, much.

Maybe they should.

"Not like you have," Richard says mildly. He's still a bit choked up. Thomas tries not to be offended by the comment but his life, contrary to how it might look, is not exactly a series of… well, he's been through a lot, he believes that at least, but most ordinary men wouldn't react to those things the way he has. Then again, _ordinary_ men would never be in the positions he's found himself in in the first place. "Only I get glum some days, just like everybody else."

Thomas pulls his wrist from him but only to squeeze his hand.

"Not _everybody_ else," Thomas counters.

"Right, that makes me feel better," Richard says, sarcastic. 

_Poor thing,_ Thomas thinks, but it's a stupid thought, reminds him of something his mum might've said to his dad, back in the day. Women can say things such as that and mean them without anybody batting an eyelash, but he's not a woman and he's not a clucking mother hen, neither. He keeps it in his head.

"Yeah, well, if it were normal it wouldn't bother you how it does, would it."

Richard shrugs, awkwardly. His head's a heavy, soothing weight on his thigh.

Thomas gives his hand another pulse.

"I'd not be the first to call you and I normal," Richard says. Even with wet cheeks and watery eyes he can still smile with his whole face.

"Very funny."

"I certainly am."

"Not so much as you think…"

Richard doesn't seem to have anything to say to that. He just sniffles.

If it wouldn't be awkward Thomas would lean down and kiss him; instead he lets go of his hand and lays his on his head. His hair is loose, waves around his face, and when Thomas starts scratching him behind the ears he hums, tilting his head more toward his touch. Not unlike another sound he makes and another thing he does, but Thomas suspects they will not get around to those tonight—which means they won't any time soon, neither. They're only got about eight hours left and they really should spend some of them sleeping.

"But yeah, you're right, about not everyone," Richard says eventually. He bends his knees closer to his chest on the bed, and Thomas wishes he could hold his whole body close, all of him. He doesn't know if he's ever been good at comforting people, and the four years of experience he had doing it on the regular isn't something he'd like to think much about. But it's nice to be held.

He likes to be held, at least. If somebody special is doing the holding.

He doesn't know what Richard likes necessarily… still, whatever this is seems to be working. His leg is about to fall asleep but he can't bring himself to care when it's calmed him down like it has.

"…I reckon among men like us it's not an exceptional feeling."

The last time he'd spent very much time in London he'd figured that out for himself. The blokes he'd shared a room with (and whose idea was that, in the circumstances?) had given him some ideas, even if he'd kept them in the back of his mind for a year or so before doing anything with them.

"I don't like that," Thomas says.

"Me, neither." 

Lower lows.

But higher highs, too, maybe. Because they don't have them as often.

No way anybody _normal_ ever feels the way he had last summer, dancing. They couldn't possibly do. What've they got to compare it to? It only mattered so much as it did because he doesn't ordinarily get to feel that way.

Richard closes his eyes again. He's drowsy, but then, he should be. And it's better that he is, or better that he'll have no trouble falling asleep tonight, at least, because he's got a day ahead of him, after this… a few hours on a train and then back in London. Back to work.

Nobody to rub his back and make him feel better when he's _glum_ at Buckingham fucking Palace, is there?

"Know what I do like?" 

"What might that be," mumbles Richard.

Thomas draws his fingertips from behind his ear down the side of his neck, then back up again to his jaw, his temple, his forehead… he presses one to his lips. _You just need to be a bit more circumspect in future, Mr Barrow…_

Richard reaches up to get him back but he whaps the underside of his chin, instead.

"…you're getting sleepy, Mr Ellis."

"Is that what you like, Mr Barrow? Me sleepy?"

This idiot…

"One of the things," Thomas says. He goes back to petting his hair.

Before too long he's fast asleep.


End file.
